


curse.exe

by Byacolate, mywordsflyup



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - The Frog Prince Fusion, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7542721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An orb, a sparrow, and a frog waxing philosophical.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>The Frog Prince AU</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please gaze a while at [this ultra-adorable Frogyatta](http://puu.sh/qcrFt/e16fe9f24c.png/) by the astounding bribees!
> 
> AND NOW WITH [BREATHTAKING COVER ART](http://i-bet-you-wish-i.tumblr.com/post/148215835053/inspiration-hit-her-like-a-train-on-a-track-manga) BY CAPTAINCOCKTEASE
> 
> WOWOW AND [A BUNCH OF ADORABLE ART](http://pomodoko.tumblr.com/post/148725408841/so-theres-this-frog-prince-au-fic) BY POMODOKO!!
> 
> And even [a podfic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7812148) by Arioch!

The golden orbs were shipped directly from Nepal. 

 

They are a gift from a distant uncle - allegedly blessed by the the monks of the Shambali monastery. Genji has no opinion one way or another regarding Omnic religion, but the orbs themselves have their appeal. Hanzo stakes no claim on them, so Genji squirrels them away in his room. For the most part, Genji leaves them in their velvet box for decoration, pleasing to his eye. 

 

He takes, on occasion, to walking the grounds with one or two in hand. Genji can’t juggle with skill no matter how he tries, so he just sticks to the one. 

 

Most of the time.

 

Sometimes though, when he knows Hanzo’s around to look on from afar with that disapproving gaze, he’ll take a couple handfuls out by the koi pond for a little impromptu juggling practice.

 

He’s worse than awful, but Hanzo can’t stand it - says arcade games and carousing about the village is a more useful waste of time - so Genji is sure to do it where he can see. He can almost feel that gaze now, a little tingling sensation at the back of his neck as he strolls over to the pond. He makes sure to appear especially nonchalant, throwing one of the orbs into the air while he walks and catching it with the same hand. 

 

He imagines Hanzo bunched and bristling like a cat and it’s enough to put a spring in his step. 

 

There’s a little wooden bridge arching over the pond and the planks are warm from the sun when he steps on them with bare feet. There’s movement in the water down below. Koi as long as his forearm have noticed his presence, hurrying to follow his shadow. He’s never fed them himself, but he’s seen the groundskeeper do it. It frightened him as a child, the mess of white and red and gold as they fought for the scraps. 

 

But they’re not fighting now and they’ll settle soon enough when they realize Genji wasn’t about feed them. He stops in the middle of the bridge, knowing well that Hanzo can see him perfectly from his rooms like this. 

 

He only took three orbs with him but that’s still too much for his current juggling skills, or… lack thereof. 

 

In spite of his ineptitude at the task at hand, Genji’s reflexes are unmatched. Well - unmatched outside of the Shimada compound. He has no problem catching the orbs - it’s the entire organized affair of juggling that stumps him. The act requires both precise focus and natural reflexive motion that can't be achieved with too  _ much  _ focus, and honestly, if it didn’t vex Hanzo so, Genji wouldn’t bother with it.

 

He snickers at his own ineptitude, tossing each ball higher and higher if only to amuse himself with diving after them down the other side of the bridge and back onto the path. One leap brings him perilously close to the edge of the pond, barely catching himself on a slab of rock. 

 

Always one to flirt with chance, he plants his weight there, inches from the water’s edge, and tosses up the next ball to try again.

 

In a feat that impresses even himself, Genji successfully manages three passes of the orbs with minimal awkwardness. He shifts his weight, his marginal success drawing him away from disaster; ironically, this becomes the hubris that destroys his flow of focus. 

 

One orb falls from his hand and lands in the grass mid-toss. The one in the air sails over Genji’s head, and though he reaches for it, his body knows better than to follow beyond the rocks. The orb lands among the lily pads with a deep  _ ploop  _ and a splash.

 

The koi scatter before Genji can utter a curse.

 

He reels for just a second before he regains his balance and really hopes Hanzo has lost interest in watching before this little… mishap. 

 

By the time he falls to his knees by the rocks, the koi have already calmed themselves enough to swim back to the lily pads. They seem curious, still holding out hope for something edible, but they keep their distance from the spot where Genji saw the orb vanish. 

 

It’s a darker part of the pond, the trees above throwing shadows over the water. Lily pads cover most of the surface, the heavy white blossoms rocking on the disturbed water. 

 

Genji kneels at the edge of the pond, trying to peer through the gaps between the green to see the golden gleam of the orb, but all he sees is darkness. He doesn’t see any koi either, but the thought of sticking his hand into the water still makes him shudder. 

 

But then again, he can’t just leave the orb at the bottom of the pond. With a little sigh, he rolls up his sleeves. 

 

“Are you in need of assistance?”

 

Genji doesn’t know who to thank for the stroke of luck that keeps him from slipping headfirst into the pond. He suppresses the jump and the curse that have long been trained out of his body, though he does freeze in their stead.

 

His eyes scan the immediate area for the source of the noise that sounds to have come from... the pond. 

 

“Who asks?” he says. 

 

All is still but for sudden movement in his periphery. A large frog crosses several lily pads in his direction, but nothing else out of the ordinary -

 

“I do,” says the frog.

 

Genji squints. 

 

“I think,” he says, resting the back of one hand to his forehead, “I have fallen ill.”

 

“That is unfortunate,” the frog tells him, hopping closer still. There’s something about it that seems off, but if Genji is delusional, that’s par for the course. He considers for a moment that he might have dropped one of the weighty orbs on his head and slides his hand to the crown of his head, almost expecting to find some grave injury. 

 

“You do not appear unwell,” the frog says and Genji stops mid-motion. 

 

“You’re still talking. So I must be.” 

 

He doesn’t know if frogs can laugh but then again, until just a few seconds ago he didn’t think they could speak. In any case, the frog makes a noise and takes a sudden leap to one of the lily pads closest to the edge of the pond. It sinks precariously deep into the water under the frog’s weight. 

 

Out of the shade, the frog looks even stranger. Instead of the green or brown Genji expected, its skin gleams silvery in the sunlight. Metallic. 

 

“You’re not a frog,” Genji says because even stating the obvious is better than just staring at it open-mouthed. 

 

“That would be a matter of debate.” It stares back up at Genji, despite its slow but sure descent. “I will find what you have lost,” it says, and before the lily pad can fully sink, it dives into the water. 

 

Genji pinches the bridge of his nose and runs through a mental list of all the things he’s eaten in the past 24 hours. Would the plum wine last night have been the easiest for someone to have slipped him a hallucinogen? This morning’s tea? 

 

Perhaps moreso than the robotic talking frog itself, Genji is dumbstruck when he sees the golden orb surfacing, inch by inch below the water. Hastily, he grabs at it when it’s near, and though the frog releases it easily, Genji reaches out and plucks it from the water too. 

 

He brings it closer for observation, despite the water dripping down his bare arm. 

 

“Hello,” it says. Genji blinks. He can’t help the slow, amused grin creeping over his face.

 

“Hello,” he responds with a snicker. “Thank you for retrieving my orb, honorable frog.”

 

“I am happy to be of service,” it responds. It seems comfortable enough to hang docile in Genji’s grip. Genji sits back on his haunches. 

 

“I’m talking to a metal frog. This is honestly bizarre,” he confesses. In the center of its forehead are three pinpricks of blue light.

 

“Perhaps not as strange as it might have been were I an organic frog.”

 

At this Genji laughs fully, wiping a hand over his face.

 

“ _ Bizarre.” _

 

The frog moves its legs, causing drops of water to hit the ground and Genji’s pants. “Would you be so kind as to set me down?” 

 

“Oh, of course.” Genji takes a look over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching him and then carefully sets the frog down on the ground in front of him. The frog looks up at him from the rocks.  


 

“Thank you.” 

 

Genji can’t stop staring, some part of him still not convinced that this isn’t just some strange hallucination. “I’ve never seen anything like you.” 

 

The frog looks up at him and pauses for a second. “That is not surprising.” 

 

Genji laughs again, the absurdity of the whole thing hitting him anew. “So if you may or may not be a frog, then what are you?” 

 

“True self is without form,” it tells him in its tinny little voice. Genji blinks twice. 

 

“I don’t know which is stranger - that you’re a talking frog, or a philosopher.“

 

“Hasn’t each blade of grass its own philosophy?”

 

“I will take you at your word, honorable master frog.” Genji taps on his chin, pensive. “I have not seen you here before. Where did you come from?”

 

“From much farther up,” it says, with a trace of humor. Genji supposes it was a stretch to hope for much sense from a frog. Even a robotic one.

 

“I see,” he lies. He taps his chin again and purses his lips. “How long have you lived in our pond?”

 

“A mere fleck upon a canvas where time has been painted with broad strokes.” It folds itself more compactly inward. “Or perhaps a week.”

 

Genji nods. “How do you keep charged, honorable frog?”

 

“I do not,” it responds cheerfully. “My power reserves have nearly been depleted.”

 

“Mm. That won’t do, I think,” Genji says and extends a hand. “I owe you for your generosity. Please, allow me to recharge you.”

 

The frog makes a noise, almost like a quiet hum, and Genji can’t quite decide if it sounds more amused or contemplative. In any case, the frog hops onto his hand. It folds its legs underneath its body so it fits snugly in Genji’s palm. 

 

“Thank you,” the frog says and Genji can feel it splay its little toes as he stands up. “I have not asked for your name.”

 

Genji laughs and steps out onto the bridge. “I haven’t asked you for yours either, honorable frog.”

 

“Do you often ask frogs for their names?” 

 

“Only the ones I offer to recharge.” 

 

There’s the humming sound again and now Genji can feel it softly vibrating in his hand. Definitely, probably amusement. “My name is Zenyatta.”

 

“Genji. Shimada Genji.” He hardly thinks a frog, even a robotic one, would recognize the name. If Zenyatta does, he doesn’t show it, only hums once more. 

 

Though they pass Hanzo in the hall, he has nothing but a cool glare for Genji as he passes. It does crack for the briefest moment when the small voice from Genji‘s palm remarks on the austerity of the hall. Genji‘s agreement rings thick with sarcasm, and Hanzo doesn’t follow when he disappears into his room.

 

Genji drops the orbs back into their velvet case and allows Zenyatta a seat on his shoulder as he digs around various drawers for plugs as small as Zenyatta’s port. He‘s accumulated dozens over the years; one of them must fit. Isn't that the law of chance?  


 

Zenyatta isn’t particularly helpful, far more interested in looking around the room, his little feet tapping on Genji’s shoulder as he turns around and around. 

 

“This is not like the hall,” he remarks after a moment. 

 

“I would hope not,” Genji says and pulls another box with cables and adapter from the top of the shelf. A thick flock of dust falls on his head and shoulders like snow and he sneezes, leading Zenyatta to jump a bit as well. 

 

“You don’t have much use for these,” Zenyatta observes when Genjis wipes the dust off the top of the box before opening it. The small tinny voice makes it difficult to discern Zenyatta’s tone but Genji feels a grin creeping onto his face anyway. 

 

“I don’t usually have to find frog-sized plugs.” 

 

Zenyatta hums and Genji is glad when he finally finds a few plugs that looks small enough. He carefully plucks Zenyatta from his shoulder and sets him down on his desk. 

 

After a few attempts, he’s surprised to find his search successful. With a triumphant noise, he plugs Zenyatta into the wall. 

 

The frog  _ sighs _ . “Thank you, Genji,” Zenyatta says, and the blue lights on its head glow brighter. Genji leans back. He can’t remember the last time a gadget  _ thanked  _ him for a bit of power. 

 

“It’s no trouble.” He grins. “I’m happy to be of service.”

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

After a thorough sanitizing, a buff, and a shine, Genji pops Zenyatta back on his shoulder for a walk into town. He flirts with the auntie at the ramen shop, who treats Zenyatta far more kindly than her paying customer. At the arcade, Zenyatta offers encouraging words for every one of Genji’s games, and endless praise for his victories. 

 

They quickly draw a small crowd of children who all want to get a look at the talking frog. There’s a pit of nervousness in Genji’s chest when Zenyatta leaps from his shoulder, but Zenyatta is happy enough to be passed from hand to hand. He has something nice and uplifting to say to each child that engages him and when the last finally hands him back, Genji can’t help but smile. 

 

“They think you are a toy,” he says as he lets Zenyatta climb back onto his shoulder. 

 

“Surely there are worse things to be?” Zenyatta scoots a little closer to his neck when Genji starts walking as not to slip from his shoulder. 

 

Genji thinks on that for a moment. “There are,” he agrees and opens the door of the arcade, stepping out into the street. “But it’s not the truth, is it?”

 

He feels Zenyatta humming against the skin of his neck. “Three things cannot be long hidden, Genji,” he says. "The sun, the moon, and the truth."  


 

Genji laughs and runs one hand through his hair. “You are very mysterious for a frog.” 

 

“Without mystery, what cause would we have to wonder?”

 

They had lost more time in the arcade than Genji realized - the sun has begun to set, the village warm with early summer heat. He’s going to be late for dinner. Genji sighs and takes Zenyatta from his shoulder.

 

“Forgive me, Zenyatta; I’m going to have to run.”

 

Zenyatta obligingly tucks his compact limbs nearer to his body, and Genji is mindful not to hold him too tightly as he takes off at a sprint. 

 

Despite the heat, by the time they arrive at the main house he hasn’t begun to sweat, so Genji slows his sock-slide to a casual stroll as he enters the dining hall. More than Hanzo’s disapproving stare, Genji has rushed to quell his father’s disappointment. The elder Shimada brightens at the sight of him, and beckons him closer. 

 

“You are late,” Hanzo notes. Genji salutes him as he drops to his place by their father.

 

“You know how it is,” he says, releasing Zenyatta from the prison of his fingers. Just as he predicted, their father leans closer, curious.

 

“What is this?” he asks, blinking at the sight of Zenyatta. Genji’s smile widens. 

 

“I dropped a Tibetan orb in the pond today when I was practicing.” Hanzo scoffs. “Zenyatta helped me retrieve it.”

 

“What a charming mechanism,” his father says, full of wonder. He leans closer. 

 

“Good evening,” Zenyatta says. 

 

“Nothing but a toy, father,” Hanzo says dismissively. 

 

Their father shakes his head. “I’m not convinced. May I?” He holds out his hand to Zenyatta who hesitates only a moment before hopping on it. Genji holds his breath as his father lifts Zenyatta up to his face to get a better look at him. “No, it seems to me this isn’t a toy at all.” 

 

Zenyatta inclines his head. “Your son has shown me every kindness.” 

 

His father’s eyes flick to Genji and then back to the frog in his hand. “Is that so?” There’s a little smile on his lips. 

 

Genji feels warmth spread in his chest despite the glare Hanzo shoots him across the table. 

 

Dinner passes and Zenyatta's presence radiates the most pleasant atmosphere Genji's felt in the dining hall in a very long time. He even has some kind words for Hanzo, who ignores him and continues to eat in silence.

 

It isn’t until Genji is on his way back to his room that Hanzo corners him in the hallway, irritation plain on his face. Genji shields Zenyatta with one hand against his chest, more out of instinct than any true fear. 

 

“What is this, Genji?” Hanzo asks and steps closer. “Another silly distraction?” 

 

Genji tsks and waves him off with his free hand. “Keep your nose to your own business, brother.”

 

“You were absent during an important meeting this morning,” Hanzo tells him. Genji feels the tiniest jolt in his gut - he’d truly forgotten. 

 

“My deepest apologies,” he says, and before he goes, bows, “honored older brother.”

 

Hanzo narrows his eyes. “This sarcasm befits your buffoonery.”

 

“Then it suits me,” he says, and winks. “Like all things!”

 

And before Hanzo can retort, he makes his escape down the hall.

 

Zenyatta peers up at him from his chest, but doesn’t comment until they are safely within Genji’s room. “You are at odds with your brother.”

 

“Not too obviously I hope,” Genji laughs, flopping down on his futon. Zenyatta elects not to move from his chest, nor to unfold his limbs. 

 

“Only to people with eyes and ears. Or…” Zenyatta cocks his head and pauses. “Other means.” 

 

Genji grins. “I’m afraid he does not care for me much at all.”

 

Zenyatta hums, a deep sound that resonates through Genji’s chest. “There is anger in him.” It’s not quite agreement but Genji’s glad he’s not telling him that this is just how his brother shows how much he cares or any of the nonsense he’s had to listen to for years.

 

“Among other things.” 

 

They’re silent for a while and Genji starts absentmindedly stroking Zenyatta’s back with one finger. He feels a little silly for it when he becomes aware of it but Zenyatta doesn't protest, so Genji doesn't stop. 

 

The weight of the frog is comfortable on his chest and the occasional hum feels quite nice. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt this calm, without the urge to leave the house again right after dinner. Just sitting still has never been his strong suit. 

 

“Ah,” he says, tapping on Zenyatta’s back. “Should I charge you overnight?”

 

“That isn’t necessary,” Zenyatta assures him. Genji cranes his neck and pats the pillow beside his head. 

 

“I’m going to bathe,” he says, lifting Zenyatta off of his chest and setting him on the pillow. “Make yourself comfortable. My bed is yours.”

 

“You are very gracious, Genji,” Zenyatta tells him. 

 

It’s a little pathetic that a machine the size of his palm could say something so simple and make him feel so… Genji waves the thought away. 

  
Still, he leaves the room with a smile and the gentle click of the door. 


	2. Chapter 2

Over the coming weeks, Genji and Zenyatta are nigh inseparable. He can’t explain it, really; there are no utility functions Zenyatta performs for him. He doesn’t hold Genji’s music, or access the internet in any way that benefits Genji. He politely but firmly refuses to perform tricks upon request. He doesn’t even tell the time. All he really does is wax philosophical and make strange jokes that normally don’t hit Genji until minutes after they’re delivered.

 

Still, it’s a rare moment Genji spends without him. He’s a silent companion even during important business meetings he’s forced to attend, tucked away in Genji’s jacket or pocket while he stands at his father’s side.

 

Zenyatta’s presence seems to make Hanzo even more irritable than usual. Whenever he sees him perched on Genji’s shoulder or in his hand, his scowl deepens. The first time he sees the little frog peek out of his pocket at a meeting, Genji thinks he’s going to jump over the table and strangle him right there and then. But there’s nothing he can do - not as long as their father is still charmed by Zenyatta’s manners and temperament.

 

“You seem more balanced since you found him,” his father tells him one morning during one of their rare moments alone together. Genji makes a noise, not quite annoyance but something close to it. “I’ve gotten no calls complaining about you all month.” There a trace of humor in his words and he laughs when he sees Genji roll his eyes.

 

He’s not entirely wrong and Genji is aware of it. How could he not be? He finds it strange enough himself. Sometimes he’s even content just to sit with Zenyatta and talk. Sometimes there’s not even that - just comfortable silence.

 

They walk through the gardens together almost every day, Zenyatta on his shoulder and one of the golden orbs in his hands. He’s given up on juggling but he still likes the feeling of throwing and catching just one of them as he walks.

 

Zenyatta himself remains a mystery. A kind and pleasant one, but a mystery nonetheless.

 

“Have you kissed him?” the ramen auntie says one afternoon, pushing a hot bowl of noodles toward Genji. He stirs a heavy dollop of hot sauce around in his bowl.

 

“I’ve kissed many hims, Autie,” he tells her boredly. She clicks her tongue at him.

 

“I meant little Zenyatta.” Genji glances over at the gadget exploring the bar to his right.

 

“Did you hit your head?” he asks, and she waves him off.

 

“He’s very cordial. Well-spoken. Polite. Doesn’t he sound like a prince?” She adjusts the apron around her waist. “He’s too good to be true, Shimada. You should kiss him. He’ll turn into a storybook prince, and then he can whisk me away.”

 

Genji lifts some noodles from the broth to cool in the open air. “You’re delusional, Auntie. If Zenyatta is a prince, the only one he’ll be whisking away is me.”

 

“I am not a prince,” Zenyatta says, hopping back toward Genji. “Neither am I opposed to kisses.”

 

Auntie chuckles and beckons with her hand. “Then allow me, little Zenyatta. Prince or no prince, you deserve them.”

 

Genji scoops him up and settles him on a shoulder. “Not a chance. You’ll get your pretty lipstick all over him, Auntie. And then who will clean him? You?”

 

She clicks her tongue at him again and shakes her head. “A waste. If you change your mind, bring him back to me. He deserves better than some boy who won’t even kiss him.”

 

Genji is tempted to stick his tongue out at her but contents himself with slurping his noodles in that way he knows annoys her. Zenyatta just hums on his shoulder, his small body pressed tightly against his neck.

 

He thinks about it on the way home. Not in a way that ramen auntie would have like, but he can’t help but wonder nonetheless. He doesn’t believe in the kind of magic that would turn a handsome prince into a frog. Curses like the ones in children’s books weren’t real. Whatever Zenyatta may or may not be, he doubts a kiss would be enough to reveal it to him.

 

In any case, you don’t just go around kissing people - or frogs for that matter - just to see what happens. He knows for a fact that Zenyatta likes his back stroked and he still asks every time before he does it. That’s just common courtesy. Not that the ramen auntie would know anything about that.

 

He must have made a noise, or perhaps it’s just the long stretch of uncharacteristic silence that gives him away, but he can feel Zenyatta shifting his weight on his shoulder.

 

“What is on your mind?”

 

“Nothing important,” Genji sighs, shoving his hands down deep in his pockets. He kicks a stone down the path as he strolls. “What Auntie said. Are you sure you are not a prince? I’d kiss you to change you back.”

 

Zenyatta chirrups at the idea. “I am no prince, nor have I ever been. However, you are welcome to try.”

 

“Ahh, that’s very generous of you, honorable master frog,“ Genji says with a grin as he kicks the rock up at a nearby sign. It hits the metal right at the center, and Zenyatta hums in his ear.

 

“Well done, Genji!”

 

Genji’s smile broadens until it aches.

 

Father is away, so there’s little need to return home before the sun sets. They walk instead, chatting with the rise of the moon. In fact, Zenyatta is the one to steer Genji back toward the house once the cicadas are deafening in the trees. He obliges Zenyatta without protest, if only because he knows his battery life has nearly run its course.

 

The cook has left some food for him and he takes it to his room to eat. He’s not particularly hungry but Zenyatta urges him to eat.

 

“We both need to recharge.”

 

Genji laughs as he plugs him in and then settles back in his chair. Zenyatta never talks much while he recharges, usually content with letting Genji carry most of the conversation or with just watching him. The little blue lights on his forehead shine a little brighter already and he tugs his legs under with a content sigh.

 

Genji has never been shy but he’s also never been the kind of person to talk freely about the things that really mattered to him. A master of deflection, that’s what his father calls him sometimes, and Genji supposes it’s true in a way. But it’s easier with Zenyatta somehow.

 

In the long evenings they’ve spent together, he’s already told him more than he’s ever told anyone. Silly things mostly, about pranks he used to pull on Hanzo or the trouble he sometimes got into. But sometimes he talks about other thing as well. Like his mother. Or his plans for the future that have nothing to do with the family business.

 

Zenyatta never laughs. He just listens. Sometimes there are questions, but the never weigh Genji down.

 

Genji moves to his bed and falls asleep before he‘s finished charging.

 

As usual, when he wakes, Zenyatta has moved himself to the pillow beside him. He greets Genji warmly, as does Genji in return.

 

And so begins another day with Zenyatta.

  


 

Of all Zenyatta‘s oddities, the most amusing is his endless curiosity. He loves to explore, to take things in at Genji‘s shoulder; he loves to meet new people and know every inch of his surroundings.

 

Some nights Genji will return from his bath or wake from light sleep to find him gone, only to reappear in the morning. Strange, but not unlike him, so Genji doesn’t question it.

 

Sometimes he even tells him about his little excursions, like the week when he spent the early morning hours in the kitchen, watching the cook work. Mostly, though, he doesn’t mention where he was and Genji is content to allow him his secrets.

 

He wakes late one morning, the sun already too hot and uncomfortable. He kicks the blanket off his legs and groans. It’s only then that he notices that the spot on pillow next to him is empty. He sits up, sleep still clinging to his mind like a haze.

 

“Zenyatta?”

 

There’s no answer. He’s not in his usual charging spot on the desk either.

 

Worry mixes in with sleepiness as Genji gets up, just a little gnawing feeling in his stomach. He calls Zenyatta’s name once more but is only met with silence.

 

The air is thick and heavy with the promise of a storm when he steps outside, despite the sun and the lack of wind. But there is no trace of Zenyatta anywhere.

 

There’s no sign of him in the kitchens - the cook hasn’t seen him. He isn’t in the bathhouse, or the dojo, or the main hall. He hasn’t returned to the pond either.

 

The last place Genji can think he’d be is the temple bell, so he hurries off on frantic feet to find him. High above, thunder rumbles in the darkened sky, and it doesn’t do a thing to assuage Genji’s anxious heart.

 

When was the last time Zenyatta recharged? Four days ago? Five? Genji can’t remember, and he curses under his breath. It’s been nearly a week, and Zenyatta hasn’t answered any of his calls - he isn’t in any of his usual haunts. A storm is coming.

 

As much as he’d like to calm himself, he can’t help but imagine Zenyatta’s little body cold and alone, lost in the storm.

 

By the time he finally reaches the bell, the sky is completely covered in dark clouds and the wind has picked up, tugging at the trees in violent gusts.

 

The bell room lies dark and empty, no trace of the little frog anywhere. Genji curses, his heart beating faster and faster with every second. Where could he have gone? Why didn’t he come back when he noticed his batteries dying?

 

The rushing of the wind is so loud now, he isn’t certain he’d even be able to hear Zenyatta calling.

 

When the next roll of thunder ebbs away, Genji thinks he hears a noise. Almost like a voice. Before he can make out more, lightning zigzags across the sky, bathing the bell room into bright light for a second, followed by deafening thunder.

 

But there it is again, definitely a voice. Calling out his name.

 

Genji turns around to find his brother walking towards him, one hand shielding his face from the find and in the other… the familiar form of a little robotic frog.

 

Cold anxiety prickles Genji’s spine. He can’t leave the bell fast enough, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. “Hanzo,” he barks, blocking Hanzo to move out from the first raindrops to the shelter of the temple bell. Zenyatta isn’t moving. “What have you done?”

 

Hanzo’s eyes narrow. “I have done nothing.”

 

Zenyatta isn’t moving. He isn’t speaking.

 

His pinpricks of light have gone dark.

 

“What did you _do?”_ he demands again, frigid terror in his heart. He’d known Hanzo was annoyed by Zenyatta - another one of Genji’s distractions - but he’d been so sure that that anger was directed at Genji, not at…

 

Terror turns to rage at the lightning’s flare.

 

“Genji -”

 

“Why?” Genji takes a step forward. “He hasn’t done anything to you!” He can’t take his eyes off Zenyatta, just a piece of metal in his brother’s hand.

 

“I don’t know what you’re -”

 

“He hasn’t done _anything_!” Genji charges but Hanzo is quick, always has been. Without missing a beat he steps back, his body turning and shielding Zenyatta - as if Genji was the one he needed protecting from.

 

The rain pelts down on them, soaking Genji’s clothes within seconds. He doesn’t even notice. He takes another step, trying to grab Hanzo’s arm but once again, Hanzo evades him. The expression on his face is hard, unreadable, and Genji wants to hit him. To hurt him. The only thing he wants more is Zenyatta.

 

The rain makes the wooden boards of the pathway slippery and when Genji leaps forward, Hanzo slips as he retreats, nearly losing his balance.

 

Genji takes that split second of distraction to grab his brother’s wrist, yanking him closer.

 

“You’re an irrational fool,” Hanzo hisses, planting a firm hand on his chest to push him back. But Genji won’t be deterred.

 

“ _Irrational?_ He isn’t some - some toy to squabble over! He’s -!” _Important._ Genji can’t remember the last time anything was so important to him. There was something more to Zenyatta - there _is_ something more. He growls, squeezing his brother’s wrist until Hanzo’s cold mask cracks. He flinches.

 

And then he hits Genji’s chest with his open palm, knocking the breath from him. “Step _back,_ brother.”

 

“Let him go!”

 

“Let _me_ go.”

 

Genji wrenches him closer instead, grappling for Zenyatta’s small form, and Hanzo - lets him go.

 

It’s the rain. It’s the sandals on his feet. It’s the slippery walkway, or the sudden drop to the right and the lurch when he pivots, or just something as simple as misfortune. It’s any number of factors that wrests Zenyatta from Genji’s hand.

 

And it happens like slow motion in a film. Somewhere between Hanzo’s hand and Genji’s, Zenyatta is lost. Genji reaches for him with the turn of his body, but he’s too close to the edge of the path. His reflexes prioritize his own equilibrium above all. The fall to the stone path below is but a few feet, a distance that means nothing to Genji.

 

To Zenyatta, it is the difference between a scuff and disaster.

 

His body hits the wall of the bell shelter before he falls - a crack before the final blow. Genji rights himself with no trouble, and he falls to his knees by the jagged rocks.

 

Zenyatta is in pieces on the ground.

 

“No…” Genji reaches for him and stops midway. He wouldn’t even know where to start.

 

He’s not a frog any longer, just bits and pieces scattered among the rocks. The next lightning strike illuminates the scene, metal and wires gleaming in the bright light.

 

“No,” Genji says again, his voice just a whisper. “No.”

 

Before he even knows what he’s doing, he’s picking up the pieces, picking them from in between the rocks and the muddy rain-soaked ground. There’s too much, too many pieces. How could all of this been inside Zenyatta’s little body?

 

Someone sobs, a harsh guttural sound, and it takes Genji a second to realize it’s himself. He’s scooping Zenyatta up with both hands now, until his hands are wet and muddy, but it’s no use.

 

“Genji…” He sees movement from the corner of his eye and then he feels Hanzo’s hand on his shoulder.

 

He shrugs him off. “Don’t touch me!”

 

Genji doesn’t have time for Hanzo’s worthless regret.

 

Swallowing thickly, he gathers the pieces to his chest and blinks rainwater from his eyes in his search for more. If he can find all of Zenyatta’s pieces, there’s still hope. He can still be fixed.

 

“Genji -”

 

“Shut _up.”_ Genji grits his teeth, curling a palm protectively around Zenyatta. “I could _kill_ you, Hanzo.”

 

“You idiot,” Hanzo growls, rapping at Genji’s temple twice with his knuckles. _“Look.”_

 

Genji blinks hard through his burning eyes, through the water that falls in rivulets down his face. A flash of lightning, and - through the murky, blurry shapes - a golden glow.

 

He nearly jumps out of his skin, staring down at the pieces of Zenyatta in his hand. A soft light, pure gold and warm to the touch, floods from the core of his broken body. Hastily, Genji brings his hands together, hunching over the pieces to shelter them from the rain. Almost as if magnetically, each neat fracture begins to gravitate around the golden core - dragging to and from the light in slow waves.

 

Before their eyes, they begin to amass _themselves._

 

Matter cannot be created from nothing, but it is undeniable that the broken bits of Zenyatta’s form are growing - multiplying - separating and becoming one all at once. Stray mechanisms find their place in the growing, flowing mass that dwarfs the space of Genji’s hands. The edges of the anomaly are smooth, as if in mimicry of a cohesive shape - the shape it will become. Is becoming.

 

It’s too large to shield from the rain that’s bearing down on them. Too large and growing still. Genji blinks and reaches out, bits and pieces flowing around his hands. And then, from one second to the next, the light burns bright and hot and there is weight in Genji’s outstretched arms. He gasps.

 

It’s a man. Not a human - an omnic. With arms and legs, fully intact. On on his forehead… familiar blue lights that slowly come to life. Nine of them in three neat little rows.

 

Behind him, Hanzo curses underneath his breath but Genji pays him no mind.

 

“Zenyatta?” he asks, his voice shaking. Because even though it’s completely irrational, utterly impossible, there is no doubt in his mind that the omnic he holds in his arms is the same as the frog that he has come to love so much.

 

For a few terrible seconds, Zenyatta doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even move. But then he hears it. Feels it underneath his hands. The familiar hum.

 

“Genji.” His voice is louder now, less tinny. Deep. He lifts a hand in front of his face and turns it as if to look at it from every angle. “This is… unexpected.”

 

A laugh bubbles out of Genji before he can stop it. He wouldn’t want to, anyway. Hanzo steps back, but Genji hardly notices - he has eyes only for the mystery in his arms.

 

“Bizarre,” he sniffs, taking in the full extent of Zenyatta’s form. Zenyatta sighs, and the depth of it resonates in Genji’s chest.

 

“How fortuitous that you would find the key to my reboot, bright Genji,” he says, turning his face toward Genji’s. His eyes are the same as they have always been - slanted just so. Genji smiles wetly at the thought.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a - an Omnic? A person?”

 

“My programming would not allow it. Though I did tell you I was not a prince.”

 

“Ah, then the fault of my ignorance was my own,” Genji laughs, dropping his forehead to the cool metal of Zenyatta’s.

 

Hanzo clears his throat, popping the bubble of joy that had built in Genji’s chest. “Could we not move this… conversation out of the rain?”

 

“Yes,” Zenyatta agrees, folding a hand over Genji’s. “I thank you for returning me to Genji, Hanzo. I owe this good fortune to you.”

 

“What?” Genji turns his head. Even through the rain he can see the annoyance on his brother’s face. And something else. Embarrassment, perhaps.

 

Zenyatta squeezes his hand. “Yes, I found myself in dire need of recharging, but I was with Hanzo. I was forced to go into sleep mode.Your brother kindly returned me to you.”

 

“Oh.” Genji blinks, realization slowly setting in.

 

“You can thank me once we’re inside,” Hanzo says and steps around Zenyatta to help him up. There’s none of the roughness Genji suspected, none of contempt. He does not know what to make of this.

 

Zenyatta is not used to his size and his new limbs and walking on two legs but with both brothers by his side, they make it inside. Now that the first shock has subsided, Genji realizes how cold he is, his wet clothes suctioned to his skin. But he doesn’t want to leave Zenyatta’s side - not yet. Genji pats him dry with a towel in his room before gesturing a little awkwardly at Zenyatta’s form.

 

“Where is your, ah… port?” he asks. He doesn’t know why suddenly the question seems different. More private. Probably because his dear friend now inhabits the body of a man.

 

“Worry not, Genji.” Zenyatta reaches behind his back, and with a faint click and a whisper of wires, he retrieves a cord from his spine. “For this body, your assistance is not required.” He looks down. “However, I would not refuse a pair of pants.”

 

“Of course!” Genji dives into his closet, tossing everything that might fit Zenyatta’s frame onto the futon. “Anything you like,” he says in earnest. Even plugged into the wall, Zenyatta’s cord travels the short distance to the futon with him.

 

He chooses a pair of Genji’s pajama pants in bright green, but foregoes a shirt. “A personal preference,” he says, tying the pajamas at his waist.

 

How can Genji deny him that?

 

He can’t keep his eyes off of Zenyatta in this new body - old body? - and asks inane questions if only to listen to the new timbre of his voice. He ignores the first call to dinner when it chirps on his phone, legs crossed on the bedroom floor beside Zenyatta.

 

“It is my hope,” Zenyatta says, absurdly large hands resting palm-up on his knees, “that you and your brother might find accord.” Genji scoffs, but it’s a quiet thing, subdued. “Your happiness is important, Genji. And I believe that his is important to you.”

 

“As always, you believe too quickly in the better nature of people, master frog,” Genji sighs, flopping back over the futon.

 

“Hanzo is plagued by the same loneliness that once filled you.”

 

“He hates you, you know,” Genji mumbles, pushing himself back up to recline on his arms. “I was so sure he’d.... When I saw you powered down, I thought the worst.”

 

Zenyatta pats his knee. “I am warmed by your concern. But your brother bears me no ill will. We have spoken many times. He doesn’t say much when I pester him, but never has he treated me with violence.”

 

“That would be a first.” He watches Zenyatta for a moment. “I didn’t know… that you talked.”

 

“I did not intend to keep secrets. Only to not betray his trust. He is not quick to give it.”

 

It should be more frustrating, listening to Zenyatta talk about his brother like this. But then again, he wouldn’t be Zenyatta if he didn’t. Genji lets himself fall back onto the futon and sighs.

 

Zenyatta hums, the noise thick with amusement. “You should bathe. I do not wish to see you fall ill on my account.”

 

Genji’s changed into dry clothes and dried his hair with a towel but his skin is still cold and clammy. There’s still mud underneath his fingernails. But the thought of leaving Zenyatta’s side, even just for a short while, doesn’t sit well with him. The shock of seeing him shattered on the ground is still too fresh.

 

But Zenyatta is gentle but unrelenting in this and after a few minutes, Genji gives in. He does feel better afterwards, warm and clean, as he makes his way back to his room. It’s still raining outside, though the worst of the storm has passed. When he gets back to his room, he finds Zenyatta just as he has left him, sitting on the futon with his hands resting on his knees.

 

“Did you stop for dinner too, Genji?”

 

“Why would I?” he asks, toweling at his green hair. “I would not go without you.”

 

Zenyatta tilts his head a fraction to the side. “Your phone insists you must eat. I feel I should too.”

 

Genji’s stubborn nature wars with his desire to please Zenyatta.

 

“And I think you should speak with your brother. There is much between you left unsaid.”

 

“That may be,” Genji sighs, tossing his towel over a hook, “but none of it would be resolved over a meal.”

 

Zenyatta spreads his hands out wide. “As in all things, what better time to start than now?”

 

Genji groans, sliding his fingers through his wet hair until it sticks up the way Hanzo hates, because… he supposes he’s doing this. “Why are you always so reasonable?”

 

Zenyatta just hums, obviously pleased with himself.

 

Genji finds Hanzo alone in the dining room. With their father on a business trip, it’s usually just the two of them during meals. Hanzo doesn’t look up when Genji enters, not even when he sits down across from him and clears his throat.

 

He can feel the familiar annoyance prick at the back of his neck but he takes a deep breath before he can say anything. Thinking about Zenyatta helps. Thinking about what Zenyatta would do in his stead only makes him shift uncomfortably.

 

At his squirming, Hanzo looks up from his food, his face as unreadable as always.

 

“I’m sorry,” Genji starts and the way Hanzo lifts one eyebrow makes him want to abort the whole mission there and then. Another deep breath. “I reacted… hastily.”

 

“To the surprise of no one…”

 

“Hey!” The old anger flares up again. “Will you let me say this or not?”

 

Hanzo frowns, but falls silent, setting his chopsticks to the side. Genji rubs the back of his neck.

 

“I didn’t know you had spoken with Zenyatta.”

 

“I would not say I have,” Hanzo snorts. “ _He_ has not stopped pestering _me.”_

 

“Still,” Genji persists. “I thought the worst of you. It was… not my best moment, brother.”

 

“It was not,” Hanzo agrees.

 

And then he meets Genji’s eyes. His expression is… perhaps not soft, but less severe. “I cannot believe your chatty toy was an Omnic.”

 

“He transformed like - like Optimus Prime!”

 

Hanzo snorts. “Your outdated references are showing.”

 

Genji points his chopsticks at Hanzo with a grin. “But you understood them. The classics.”

 

Hanzo’s smile is faint but still the truest he’s given Genji in what feels like years. “How could I avoid such childish things with you around?” he asks but his voice has lost some of its edge.

 

Genji huffs but lets it go for once. They eat in silence but not the uncomfortable one he’s gotten so used to.

 

“Father will be surprised we he gets home,” Genji says after a while, the thought that’s been slowly building in the back of his mind finally coming to the forefront.

 

“About Zenyatta?” Hanzo shakes his head. “I think he has his suspicions.”

 

“But something like this? Who could have expected that? That Zenyatta would be…” He breaks off and Hanzo raises an eyebrow.

 

“He has explained what happened to him?”

 

Genji can feel warmth crawling up his cheeks and hopes it doesn’t show. The truth is that he’s been so busy getting used to Zenyatta’s new form that he didn’t even stop to ask the simplest questions.

 

Hanzo scoffs. “Of course. That’s just like you.”

 

“We can’t all be rational and boring like you, _honored brother.”_

 

He leaves dinner as quickly as usual, but with a lighter step than he can remember in a long time. Something Zenyatta must find in his face, because he greets Genji with a pleased, “Well done!”

 

“I threw rice at him and he called me a failure,” Genji fibs, flopping down next to him. Zenyatta laughs quietly, and the sound resonates through Genji. He lays back half on the futon, half across the floor. “Zenyatta,” he murmurs, “will you tell me what happened to you? Why you were a frog? Like a witch’s curse.”

 

“Part of my programming,” Zenyatta tells him, turning to face him in bed. “I revert to a simplistic state when my AI is threatened. In my travels, I believe I was set upon by a remote hacker. My programming responded to the threat, shutting down all complex functions beyond speech and… limited mobility.” He spreads his broad hands. “And then I came to be in your pond.”

 

“A hacker?” Anxiety grips Genji’s heart, squeezing mercilessly.

 

Zenyatta watches him for a moment. “You worry.”

 

“Of course I do!”

 

“There is no need.” He puts a hand on Genji’s knee. “I am safe now. I believe it was a random attack, not meant to target me specifically.”

 

The thought of someone somewhere in the world wishing Zenyatta that much harm is both baffling and horrifying to him. Genji isn’t blind. He knows what a lot of people still think about omnics. But they don’t even _know_ Zenyatta.

 

“Do not carry this burden,” Zenyatta says softly, his voice pulling Genji gently out of the darkness of his own thoughts. “Whatever may have happened before, it has led me here. I would not disparage this turn of events.”

 

Genji takes a deep breath, slowly dispelling the fear, and covers Zenyatta’s hand with his. It’s still a little strange, that just his hand is now bigger than his whole form was before. “I suppose, then... neither should I,” he says and smiles.

 

Whatever has been, this is their life now. It almost feels like magic.

**Author's Note:**

> Inquire about fic requests [here!](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/ask)  
> mywordsflyup's Tumblr: [damnable-rogue](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com/)  
> Byacolate's Tumblr: [wardencommando](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/).  
> Byacolate's Battle.net ID: byacolate#1589

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [curse.exe [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7812148) by [Arioch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arioch/pseuds/Arioch)




End file.
